


Five Times Bucky Barnes Accidentally Runs into Clint Barton And The One Time He Does It on Purpose

by AlannaLioness



Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5 Things, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of canon character death, Miscommunication, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, like so so far from cannon at this point, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannaLioness/pseuds/AlannaLioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes and Clint Barton keep running into each other. A pattern develops, as does a friendship. Until they both do something stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Bucky Barnes Accidentally Runs into Clint Barton And The One Time He Does It on Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this before I saw Age of Ultron so, it pretty much ignores that whole movie. Oops. 
> 
> Not beta-ed so let me know if their are any glaring mistakes. 
> 
> I have become multishipper trash and its all Frankie's fault.

            The first time Bucky Barnes accidentally ran into Clint Barton, it resulted in two broken dishes and a dent in Stark’s counter top. Oh, and it was definitely Barton’s fault.

           It happened when Stark was showing them around the tower the day that Steve, Sam, and Bucky moved in (and what Stark had finally said to convince Steve Bucky still didn’t know, the last time he’d checked Sam and Steve had still been saying that a superhero frat house was a recipe for disaster, yet here they were).

           Stark had started on their floor, where he’d loudly complained about having to redesign it from three smaller, semi-separate apartments into one big one. But Bucky was calling bullshit on that one, he’d seen very little of the man, but he knew already that Stark loved to tinker. He’d probably had a field day designing everything they wanted. So Stark got to have fun and Bucky got a multilingual library in his apartment, it was a win-win situation (and if Steve suspected that Bucky wanted the library as an excuse to hide from people, he was good enough not to say anything).

           After their floor they moved on to explore the common floor. While it was tastefully decorated, it was definitely adding to the ‘frat house’ vibe. There was a huge entertainment system surrounded by comfortable couches and chairs, a games room with not one but two pool tables, and there was a cleared matted area that was, apparently, dedicated to ‘team bonding wrestling matches’ (Stark's actual words. Which had been accompanied with an actual wink. Bucky could never _unsee that._ ) At least the kitchen was well stocked.

          Stark dragged them into the kitchen, pointing out all the appliances. Stark was showing them where plates and bowls were kept, because apparently being on ice for 70 years meant that they no longer knew how kitchens work, when a blond haired man launched himself into the room. Literally. He grabbed the door frame for leverage as he whipped around the corner and catapulted himself into the kitchen. And right into Bucky. Bucky stumbled back, bumping into Stark, who then dropped the two dishes in his hands. Before anyone could recover, another person came careening into room, long black hair flying as she tackled the blond from behind. The extra surprise weight sent an already off-balance Bucky toppling, his arms windmilled as he desperately tried to regain his footing. His left hand smashed into the counter, dented it, slipped and Bucky continued his fall to the ground. His back hit the floor with a thud and a grunt escaped his lips.

           Bucky looked up at two unfamiliar faces. The blond guy’s face was hovering about half a foot above Bucky’s own, which seemed impossible until he realized the other guy had his hands braced on either side of Bucky’s head and was holding himself in an intense plank position. The face of the black haired girl looked at Bucky from over the guys shoulder, from where she was apparently just lounging on his back.

          “Sorry,” the guy said, grinning. “We thought we were alone.”

          “Uh,” was Bucky’s articulate answer. The guy was not moving ,which was odd. People didn’t usually stay close to Bucky. Neither was the girl. Well, she was. She shifted her position so she could prop her chin on her hands, tilting her head to study him. From where she was still _casually lounging on the back of the guy doing the plank._ The guy’s arms weren’t even trembling, which Bucky had to admit was pretty impressive. Didn’t make the situation any less weird, but still, impressive. Bucky cleared his throat. “Uh,” he said again. “Its fine. Ya just caught me off guard.”

           “Caught you off guard?” the girl asked. “Aren’t you an assassin?”

           “Kate,” the blond said with an eyeroll. “Be nice.” He looked at Bucky, “aren’t you a _world class_ assassin?”

           “Uh,” Bucky said. Which was just great. Steve was going to think he was regressing or some shit with this wonderful vocabulary.

           “Clint,” someone admonished from above them. Steve, Bucky guessed. It certainly sounded like his ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ voice.  But there was something off about it. Was that punk laughing at him? “I’m sure Bucky would be happy to answer. Once you got off the floor.” He was laughing! Bucky could hear him trying to hold back the giggles and still sound firm.

           The guy, Clint, rolled his eyes and wiggled his shoulders. The girl, Kate, gracefully rolled off Clint’s back and leapt to her feet. Clint himself jumped up and offered a hand to Bucky, who ignored and got to his feet on his own. Clint just shrugged. Bucky turned and glared at Sam and Steve, who were both trying (and failing), to hide their shaking shoulders and wide grins. Stark on the other hand, was just shaking his head.

           “Bucky,” Stark said. “This is Clint Barton and Kate Bishop. Clint and Kate, this is Bucky Barnes, _former_ world class assassin. The other one is Sam Wilson, and of course you know Steve”. Bucky shot Stark a look and then looked and Clint and Kate.

           “Hi,” the two said together.

           “We’re Hawkeye,” Barton continued.

           “And Hawkeye.” Kate finished. They both grinned, slinging an arm around one another. “We fight crime,” Kate said with a nonchalant shrug.

           “Oh god. They’ve been practicing,” Stark said with a groan. The two Hawkeyes glared at him.

           “Archers right?” Bucky asked. Clint head whipped back, looking at Bucky in surprise. “Calloused fingertips. Strong arms.” Bucky said both with pointed glances. “World class spy too,” he finished, grinning.

           And Steve and Sam were laughing again. Bucky shot them a death stare.

           “Sorry…. sorry…” Steve said, gasping. “Its just… world class spy who was startled by a kittenyesterday.”

           “Well sorry,” Bucky said sarcastically. “I’m usually back in cryo at this point so excuse me if it's taking me some time to adjust.”

           Sam and Steve froze. The was a moment of horrible, tense silence, and then Barton was laughing. Bucky relaxed, shoulders releasing tension. Steve still acted weird around him sometimes, as if he was afraid Bucky was going to break. Bucky was suddenly looking forward to being around someone who was an asshole like him and had zero expectations of Bucky.

           Barton reached out and clapped Bucky on the shoulder. “Pleasure meeting you, but me and Kate have to get back to training,” he said and then released. He spun, tugging Kate after him, who grinned and waved at them all.

           Bucky stared after them for a moment, before turning to Steve, who had a thoughtful look on his face.

           “You know,” he said, “Clint just reminded me of someone.”

           Bucky raised an eyebrow.

           “That resistance leader, the one we met in Reims.”

           Bucky raised his other eyebrow.

           “You know,” Steve made a vague gesture at his biceps, “‘cause of the arms.”

           Bucky’s face dropped into a glare. “What’re you saying, punk?”

           “Nothing!” Steve said with a shit-eating grin. “Just reminiscing. I’m just reminded of the fellas you’ve always been real friendly with.”

           “Says the guy who never stopped chasing after feisty brunettes,” Bucky said with a pointed glance at Sam, which happened to put Stark in his line of sight. Stark who was looking absolutely gobsmacked, like his life was flipping upside down in front of his very eyes. Bucky grinned, an idea taking shape in his head. “And besides, I resent the insinuation that I was ever anything other than faithful to Howard.”

           Stark spluttered, apparently choking on his own spit. Bucky would have held steady, but Steve started cackling, and Bucky broke, laughing along with him. Stark caught his breath, narrowing his eyes as they flicked between Bucky and Steve.

           “You are both on my shit list,” he announced. “See if i design any upgrades for either of you.” He turned and left, leaving Steve and Bucky howling in the kitchen while Sam just shook his head.

           The second time Bucky accidentally bumped into Clint Barton, Kate was with him again, and this time it may have been his own fault. Maybe. But he was still going to blame Stark.

           Bucky was in Stark’s lab while the genius worked on his arm. Absolutely everything about the situation put Bucky on edge. Most of his memories about labs were not pleasant, and all the good ones involved Howard letting him play and poke at stuff. Tony wouldn’t let him poke at stuff. Instead, Tony was poking at his arm. It had started making this horrible grinding noise and every so often a clicking noise accompanied by pain shooting through Bucky’s shoulder. Stark had stopped the pain and the clicking but he was still digging around trying to find the source of the grind. It was mildly uncomfortable, only painful if Stark slipped and his screwdriver hit one of the sensors, which was thankfully very rare.  Bucky was sitting on a stool leaning back against Stark’s workbench , successfully ignoring Stark’s babbling, when Kate walked in.

           “Stark!” she said, breaking through Bucky’s reverie.

           “What up Mini-Hawk?” Stark asked, not looking up from Bucky’s arm.

           “Its just Hawkeye,” she said, rolling her eyes.

           “Whatever. Just give me a sec to finish...almost…”

           Kate turned her attention to Bucky, giving him an appreciative once over. Bucky wished he’d kept his shirt on.

           “What’s your opinion on trick arrows filled with pudding?” Kate asked suddenly.

           Before Bucky could figure out what she meant, Stark was slamming the plates of his arm shut and spinning his stool to face Kate.

           “I’m sorry, but I could have sworn you just said something about pudding trick arrows. Which can’t _possibly_ be right.”

           “I did,” Kate said. “Explodes on impact and showers target with pudding Perfect for pranks according to Clint. But-”

           “How would you even build that?” Stark interrupted.

           Bucky took the opportunity of their mutual distraction to grab his shirt from the bench and slowly stand. The two continued to debate the practicality and possibility of the arrows as Bucky started to backing away towards the exit. He kept his eyes on Stark, in case the man suddenly decided he wasn’t done (it had happened in the past). So the fact that he didn’t realize the lab doors were swooshing open long before he’d gotten close to them could definitely be blamed on Stark. Bucky backing straight into Clint Barton, probably was his own fault.

           Strong hands gripped Bucky’s shoulders, steadying him. Bucky looked over his shoulder and saw that it was Clint. He cringed internally, he must be making a great impression on the archer. But Clint wasn’t laughing at him, Clint’s attention was focused fully on Kate and Stark.

           “Kate,” he almost whined. “You can’t just go to Stark everytime we disagree about arrows!”

           Kate raised an eyebrow in what was obviously a challenge. Clint sighed, squeezing Bucky’s shoulders before letting go and stepping around him to approach the pair at the workbench.

           Bucky was frozen. He could count the number of people who willingly touched him with the fingers of one hand, and he had not anticipated Clint Barton being one of them.

           And he may have imagined it, but he _thought_ he saw Clint give him a once over out of the corner of his eye as he’d stepped around Bucky. But there was no way.

           There was a whoosh behind him. Bucky tugged on his shirt as he turned to see Sam and Steve walk into the lab. Sam’s newly repaired wings, which he had been practicing with again that morning, were still strapped to his back. Steve’s shield was on his back as well, as they’d been doing a lot of tag-team maneuver training.

           “What are they fighting about?” Steve asked.

           “Pudding arrows?” Bucky answered.

           “Pudding _arrows_?” Sam asked.

           “Pudding arrows.”

           “ _Made_ of pudding?”Steve tried to clarify.

           “Explodes pudding,” Bucky responded.

           “Chocolate or vanilla?” Sam asked, in a _far_ too reasonable voice.

           Before they could fall further down the rabbit hole, a klaxon sounded, the Avengers’ call to assemble. It was the 2nd time it had happened since they’d moved in, but Bucky had never been at the center of the action before. Bucky watched as Stark’s armour started assembling around him and he started yelling about where Sam and Clint could find weapons in the lab. By some miracle, (well actually Stark’s obsession with tinkering), he had one of Clint’s bows in the lab. Bucky froze along with everyone else when the klaxon stopped and JARVIS’ voice cut through the air.

           “Sir,” JARVIS said. “I must remind you that Sergeant Barnes requested not to be left alone in the tower when civilians are also on site. Normally, Dr. Banner would remain with him, but his skills are required in the field.”

            Everyone’s eyes snapped to Bucky, except Clint who was already moving. He tossed his quiver and bow to Kate, whipped out his phone and started to text.

            “I’ll stay. Take Kate. Tasha’s got body armour that will fit her.”

            “But-” Kate tried to interrupt.

            “No. You’re gear may be good enough for the track suits, but you’re not going Avenging in it.” Clint slipped his phone back in his pocket and made eye contact with Steve. “She’s best at long distance, like me. But her hand to hand isn’t at Avenger level yet, so she won’t get close like I sometimes do. She knows her strengths. Trust her.”

            Steve nodded, eyes flicking between the team members as he planned.

            “Wait, what?!” Stark suddenly said. “We’re not actually taking a kid out with us?”

            Kate and Clint both glared at Tony.

            “A),” Clint began. “She’s Hawkeye, it's not like they give that title to just anyone. and B), she’s more of an adult than you.”

            Stark looked like he was about to argue but was cut off by his own AI.

           “Sir, the situation is escalating and this is the only easy solution.”

           Stark narrowed his eyes, but nodded and walked to the elevator. The other’s followed, leaving Bucky alone with Clint.

           Bucky shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling awkward.

           “Uh, sorry,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to-”

           Clint cut him off with a wave of his hand.

           “It’s fine. Kate needs more experience working with a team, under a leader, and you need company. Its a win-win really.”

           “You sure?” Bucky asked.

           “I’m sure,” Clint said. “And I certainly need a night off. I am tired of fighting with asshole Russians.

           “Well,” Bucky drawled. “Hanging out with me may not have been your best choice then.”

           Clint barked out a laugh.

           “Good one. Now come on. WIth everyone gone we can play Mario Kart without Stark cheating.” He grabbed Bucky and towed him towards the elevator.

 

 

           The third time Bucky accidentally crashed into Clint Barton, they were both hiding on the roof, and technically, Clint crashed into him. What was surprising about the situation was that they were both actually hiding for the same reason.

           The team had been planning something. Bucky knew the team had been planning something because Steve kept getting dragged into meetings that always left him with the same pinched look on his face. He did not know they were planning something because someone had actually taken the time to explain it to him. ‘Cause that would be ridiculous,they were all busy people . And Bucky _definitely_ wasn’t annoyed about it. _At all_. Either way, surely Steve would tell him, give him ample opportunity to prepare for it. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

          That is not what happened.

          Instead, Stark happened.

          Bucky was sitting in their apartment’s breakfast nook, munching on cereal, when Stark walked in. He was dressed in a dark dress shirt and pants, and there wasn’t a bit of grease anywhere on his person, which was a miracle in and of itself. 

           “The Wonder Boys still haven’t given me an answer so I am coming to the source,” Stark said to Bucky. “Are you coming today or not? Pep needs to know.”

           Bucky looked at him with blank expression, completely lost. He blinked a couple times, not yet awake enough to actually form a clarifying question.

           “To the memorial? And the charity gala?” Stark asked. A look of dawning realization came over Stark’s face and he turned to look at Steve and Sam, who were leaning against the counter, drinking OJ after their early morning run. Bucky followed Stark’s gaze, a hard lump forming in the pit of his stomach.

            “Did you guys not tell him?” Stark asked incredulously. Sam and Steve looked at each other, and said, in accidental unison:

            “I thought you were going to tell him.”

            It would have been funny, except it wasn’t. Being out of the loop was Bucky’s least favourite place to be. He made him feel nauseous and oddly, guilty. As if he had failed in learning something, in doing the proper recon. Like he was going to let someone down because he _didn’t know._

            “What were they supposed to tell me?” Bucky asked Stark, when Sam and Steve just stared at each other and started to argue quietly.

            Stark turned to him, absently rubbing at the center of his chest, where Bucky knew the arc reactor used to be.  “There’s a private memorial today and a charity gala tonight to commemorate the  Battle of New York. They were supposed to see if you were up for coming.”

           “You don’t have to,” Steve said, breaking off his argument with Sam. Bucky looked at him. At the tension in his shoulders. At where his pinky finger was looped around Sam’s where both their hands gripped the counter. “If it’s too much, don’t worry about it,” Steve continued, the pinched look back. Bucky stood suddenly, the lump in his stomach hard as stone. Steve took a step towards Bucky, his hand shifting so that it completely held Sam’s.

           “I… uh. Gotta think.”  Bucky said. “I’ll let you know soon?”

           Stark nodded. “You’ve got 2 hours until the memorial starts. And whatever you decide, appropriate clothes are getting sent up in half an hour.” Stark looked at Bucky’s scruffy black jeans and rumbled t-shirt, “You need to expand your wardrobe anyways.”

           Bucky nodded before he began striding across the apartment, making a beeline for the stair’s access door. He took the stairs two at a time, mild panic driving his steps. 

           Bucky hated not knowing.

           And he had no idea what the Battle of New York was.

           All he knew was that is was bad. It was bad enough that Stark was rubbing at his chest and Steve was gripping onto Sam like he was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

           It was bad and Bucky _didn’t know what is was_. How was his supposed to support his best friend when he didn’t know. How could he protect Steve when he didn’t know what he was fighting? And he was _supposed_ to know. He was supposed to remember. But with no frame of reference, he had no idea what jumbled part of his brain he was supposed to dig into.

           He finally burst through the doors to the roof. He turned his face into the sun and started to gulp down huge lung fulls of air. Slowly, he calmed his heart rate and relaxed his tense muscles. He stood for a moment, focusing on the heat of the sun of his face. On the quiet hum of his arm. On the sound of shifting gravel. His eyes snapped open, looking around for the source of the sound.

           He was on the true roof, not Stark’s landing pad of the various weird balconies. But the actual roof, covered in loose gravel with air vents and the various boxy machinery required for running a building. Bucky found the source of the noise on the far side of the roof. Clint was gripping the low wall and leaning out over the edge. In the morning light, Bucky could tell that he wasn’t focused on anything in particular, just gazing out over the city.

           “Hey!” Bucky called out to him, but Clint didn’t respond. Bucky walked towards him, hoping the archer wasn’t ignoring him on purpose. Bucky didn’t think Clint had any reason to. They’d hung out a few times since the assemble and video games night, usually with the other Avengers. During the last game night, the two of them had stood together and judged everyone else’s pool skills.

            Bucky reached out a hand and tapped Clint on the shoulder. Clint spun, shoulder purposefully shoving into Bucky, before Clint settled into a defensive pose. Bucky raised his hands, palms out, in the universal ‘I did not come here to fuck with you’ gesture. Bucky could see when Clint realized who it was, the hardness slipped from his eyes and face and his pose relaxed. (Bucky thought that anyone who let themselves relax in his presence was pretty stupid, but he wasn’t going to tell Clint that.) 

            Clint reached up and touched something behind his ears. For the first time, Bucky actually looked closely and noticed that Clint had hearing aids. They were small, compact tech, probably something Stark worked on if Bucky had to guess.

            “Sorry,” Clint said. “Had my aids off. It can get real windy up here, which can be annoying. “ He shoved his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. Noticing Clint’s lack of his usual purple, Bucky remembered what had brought him to the roof in the first place.

            “What’s the Battle of New York?” he asked without preamble. Clint’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t seem able to respond at first. Bucky continued, “‘cause there’s a memorial and a gala, which seems like a weird combination to commemorate a battle but… uh…” he trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Clint swallowed.

             “Its. Uh. Its the three year anniversary and all the Avengers are in town for the first time since so they’re. uh. They’re making a big deal of it.”

             “Oh,” Bucky said, still confused. “But what _was_ the Battle? What happened?” Clint swallowed again.

             “Didn’t they brief you on stuff like this? Like important world changing events or whatever?” Clint asked.

              Bucky rolled his eyes, vaguely irritated.

              “I was only briefed on things if they thought it would effect my mission.The only mission I’ve had in the last three years was killing Steve, and apparently this was deemed unnecessary information. So no one has told me _anything._ ”

              Clint rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, I’m going to have to sit down for this one,” he said and then promptly flopped onto the ground, leaning his back against the wall. Bucky followed suit, making sure to leave a few inches space between himself and Clint. Clint rubbed his hands over his face before bringing his head up and looking out into the distance. He squinted, obviously looking for a place to start.

            “So,” he began. “You know Thor, right?” Bucky nodded. He’d met the Asgardian a couple times, stuff like that tended to happen when you lived in a superhero frat house. Clint continued, “Thor has this adopted brother, Loki. Loki was real pissed when he found out he was adopted, he did some bad shit in Asgard, seized the throne, lost the throne, and then caused Thor to destroy the Bifrost, which is the magic bridge thing that connects the realms.” Clint looked over to Bucky, who had a slight furrow between his eyebrows.

           “Yeah,” Clint said. “I’m gonna need you to just accept that at face value, ‘cause to get into detail would take a long-ass time and it’s literally the least complicated part of this story.”

           Bucky nodded slowly and gestured for Clint to continue.

           “So. Loki decided that the best next course of action was to take over earth. He came, caused some general chaos, and then attacked the helicarrier.” Clint swallowed before continuing. “That’s what the memorial is for. A lot of Agents got hurt, and some died. Its a private thing. For them. Not the press, not the city. For the SHIELD Agents.” He paused, blinked, his fists squeezed together. Bucky found himself leaning towards him, pushing his shoulder against Clint’s in a gesture of comfort he’d forgotten he knew. Clint leaned into it.

            “Loki. he. uh… he killed Phil Coulson. Coulson was a good agent, and a good friend. Only one who didn’t think I had a death wish when I brought Natasha in.”  Clint grinned slightly, just a quirk of the lips, obviously lost in a memory. Then he shook himself and straightened, no longer touching Bucky. “Then he attacked New York. With an alien army that poured through a portal in the sky. Not a fun time…. It was fucking chaos. At the end of the day, we won. The Avenger’s first victory as a team. But there’d been so much destruction. Hence the charity gala. There’s always something that needs to be rebuilt.”

             Bucky absorbed all the information as he looked at Clint. The archer stared at his hands where they were clasped between his bent knees. Instead of the air of a man who had just finished his story, he looked as if he was waiting for someone to ask the right question. 

            “So why are you hiding?” Bucky asked. “Why aren’t you basking in the hero worship?”

            Clint leaned his head back against the wall and looked up at the sky.

            “You are not going to like the next bit,” Clint said. “SHIELD was messing around with the tesseract.     

            Bucky blinked. He blinked again. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t like that. That sounds like the worst idea I’ve ever heard. And I grew up with Steve.” 

            Clint rolled his head to look at Bucky, grinning. Then the smile faltered, and he was looking past Bucky.  “Loki used it to get to earth. Came through right inside a SHIELD facility. I was there.” He stopped, eyes refocusing on Bucky, and there was doubt there; indecision on whether or not to continue. Bucky realized that maybe this was something personal. A loss that made Clint seek to grieve in private. Whatever it was, Bucky knew he had no right to demand an explanation from Clint, and Clint had the right to grieve on his own. That right had been taken from Bucky and he wasn’t about to take it from someone else. 

            “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to” he said. “There are things that one does not want to share with others. God knows I understand that.” Bucky shifted and began to rise, but Clint grabbed his arm. 

            “No, I,” Clint started. “You might actually understand better that anyone.” Bucky allowed Clint to drag him back down. Their position had shifted, they no longer had space between them, theirs shoulders and hips pressed together, neither moving away. Clint swallowed and began again. “When Loki came through the portal he had this, this spear. And when I failed to stop him, he pressed it against my chest, and I, I just, stopped fighting. Everything I’d ever wanted, or loved, or fought for, was gone. All that was left was Loki’s will. I was still me, inside, but whatever Loki wanted become paramount, it was all that was important. His orders were all I wanted to follow. And I did everything to complete them.”  Clint gulped a few times. 

            Bucky pushed against him, hoping the physical contact would ground Clint in  the present, it was something that usually helped him. 

            Clint took a deep breath. He continued, sounding like he was trying to deliver a mission report, to be detached and to the point.

            “I helped Loki’s chaos. I led the attack on the helicarrier. Nat got me back before the Battle of New York, but I’d already supplied Loki with the material that allowed him open the portal.” Anger and hurt seeped into Clint’s voice. “So its my fault. My friends, my fellow agents, innocent civilians, they all died because of me. I would not be wanted at a memorial I was the cause of-” he cut himself off, jaw clenching and unclenching. There was silence for a moment.

            “You weren’t in control. It’s not your fault.” Bucky said.          

            Clint looked at him. “You, of all people, know that that knowledge does not stop the guilt.”

            Bucky nodded, ceeding the point. “Plus, its hard to look Captain Paradigm of Virtue in the eyes when you’re blaming yourself and all you want to do is get completely trashed.”

            Bucky huffed a quiet laugh. “I do get that. But.” Bucky paused, but he felt it was only fair. Clint had given him something, time to return the favour. “He’ll have forgiven you. If he can forgive everything that I have done, he can forgive you. Which may not seem like a lot in the grand scope of things, but it helps. It does.”

            Clint nodded. “Come with me?” he asked quietly.

            “Sure.” Bucky responded.

            The look of gratitude and relief on Steve’s face when the two of them walked into the memorial was not something Bucky would soon forget. Nor was the feel of Clint’s weight whenever he leaned into Bucky. Bucky had not been trusted like that in a long time, but he could do it. He could be solid for Clint.

 

 

          The fourth time Bucky Barnes and Clint Barton banged into each other, it was actually more of a stumble, it was midnight, and Bucky just wanted a snack. Except, that was a lie. If Bucky had really just wanted a snack, he would have gone to one of the various kitchens in Stark tower and gotten something. He wouldn’t have gone down to street level and wandered down the street until he found a 7-11. A 7-11 where he found Clint Barton.

            Bucky walked into the convenience store and, assasin’s habits being hard ones to break, his eyes scanned the store’s interior. A man at the back of the store caught and held his attention, at first Bucky assumed his brain was doing automatic threat assessment, but then he realized it was Barton. Bucky walked towards Clint, who was standing in front of the freezer section. As Bucky got closer he realized that Clint was staring at the Ben & Jerry’s with a look of vague contemplation. 

            “Hey,” Bucky said. Clint, being a trained whatever-he-was, did not jump. But Bucky was also trained, he saw Clint’s eyes narrow and fists clench, and he realized that he had startled Clint. “You need better situational awareness,” Bucky told him. Clint just rolled his eyes and opened the freezer. “Grab me a Half-Baked, will ya?” Bucky asked. Clint reached in and tossed Bucky the requested ice cream, still not saying anything. Bucky looked Clint over. He hadn’t seen Clint in a couple weeks and it looked like Clint hadn’t slept in that whole time. There was a bandage over his nose and a fading bruise along his jaw.

            Clint turned so that he faced the shelf directly across from the freezer. The shelf was filled with college kid food, cup-o-soup, ramen noodles and all the the delightfully sugar-filled snacks. Bucky grabbed a small blue box from the shelf, grinning. 

            “Man, Pop-Tarts! I love Pop-Tarts. But don’t tell Stark. He think’s he’s grossing out us centennials by making us try this stuff. But man, _Pop-Tarts._ There might be a lot wrong with the 21st century, but you did right with Pop-Tarts.” Bucky looked at Clint, who was staring at Bucky with something akin to horror on his face.

            “ _Pop-Tarts_?” Clint asked incredulously. “You’re excited about Pop-Tarts? Pop-Tarts are awful. They are the literal worst.” Bucky’s eyes dropped to the orange box in Clint’s hands before leaping back up, a smirk forming on his face. 

            “This coming from the guy buying Tang? Seriously, Tang? I’m pretty sure that stuff can’t legally be called juice in a lot of places.”

            Clint gasped in mock hurt. “Are you insulting my Tang? I’ll have you know that Tang is culturally and generationally important. Tang and I have _history._ Besides, do you even know what Tang is? ‘Cause I think you’re just being a jerk”

            Bucky snorted. “They made me drink it one time in the, uh, the 80s? I require a _lot_ of calories and they were trying to find cheaper ways of getting me them while I was in the field. Didn’t really go according to plan. So yes, I do know what Tang is. And that shit is _not_ fit for people.” Clint’s eyes narrowed.

            “I think you’re just jealous because you couldn’t appreciate the beauty and goodness of Tang when you were a child. And now you’re trying to fill that hole in your heart with crummy, crumbly, bastard pastries.” Clint told him. Bucky echoed Clint’s earlier gasp and started making his way towards the cash register.

            “I cannot _believe_ you are judging my snack choices. I really don’t need that from my best friend.” Bucky said. Clint, who was following behind, seemed to trip on nothing and stumbled into Bucky’s back. Bucky stayed solid so that the two of them wouldn’t crash into the candy shelves in front of the register. Bucky made eye contact with the clerk, who smiled at him.

            “While I agree that Tang is awful,” she said as she began to ring up Bucky’s items. “I have to admit that Toaster Strudel is way better than Pop-Tarts.” Bucky rolled his eyes while Clint snorted a laugh behind him. He reached past Bucky and tossed his own items onto the counter.

            “I got this,” he said.

            “You know, considering that Stark gave me a credit card, I would usually fight you on this, but _no way_ am I enabling your horrible taste.”

            Clint shoved Bucky’s shoulder playfully before paying. They walked out the door and started down the street to the tower.

            “So,” Clint said, as Bucky opened a Pop-tart and started to nibble at it. “Couldn’t sleep?” Bucky shook his head and, swallowing.

            “Its movie night on our floor, and Natasha is over. The three of them are great, but Sam and Steve’s flirting has hit a new level of fluffy cuteness and Natasha keeps looking at me like she knows something and she’s getting more and more pissed that I haven’t figured it out yet. Not that Natasha’s face ever gives away much. But _somehow_ I can read her and everytime I do, stuff will flash through my mind. Just, glimpses of unpleasant memories. And I just. If i’d stayed I would have hit something.” Bucky stopped, taking a gulp of air. “Sorry. That was a lot. I shouldn’t have thrown all that at you.”

            Clint shrugged. “ We all need to vent sometimes.”

           “So, what about you?” Bucky asked. “What brings you out in search of Ben and Jerry’s?”

           “Can’t sleep,” Clint said. “Been dealing with the Russians for the last couple weeks and I’m just so wired my body won’t shut down.”

           “Oh,” Bucky said. “You wanna do something?”

           “I was just going to eat ice cream and watch movies until I passed out. But there is plenty of room on the couch for a best friend,” Clint said with a smirk.

           “Oh, come on,” Bucky said, shoving Clint. “You’re not going to hold that over my head are you?”

           “You’re the one that said it. You saying it ain’t true then?” 

           “No, thats not what I’m saying. I meant it. You are… After Steve of course.”

           “Of course,” Clint repeated. Bucky looked at Clint out of the corner of his eye, worried he’d offended him. But Clint was grinning.

           They walked in companionable silence to the Tower where they took the elevator up to Clint’s floor, well third of a floor. It was split into three apartments, Clint’s, Natasha’s, and Foster’s intern’s, Darcy. According to Clint, all three of them couldn’t handle the colossal amount of space that came with an entire floor, but all three loved their privacy, so they didn’t want to share like Bucky, Sam, and Steve did. Plus, Darcy flat out refused to be on the same floor as Thor and Dr. Foster because of ‘reasons’ Clint had said with an eyebrow wiggle.

            On entering Clint’s apartment, a yellow ball of fur barrelled into Bucky’s legs. Thankfully, Bucky’s hands were full of Pop-Tarts so he was too preoccupied to react badly AKA violently.

           “That’s Lucky,” Clint said. “Don’t tell Stark he’s here.”

            Bucky raised an eyebrow. “But what about…?” he asked, pointing at the ceiling, before shoving the rest of his Pop-Tart in his mouth.

            Clint waved a hand, “JARVIS and I have an understanding.”

            They made their way into the living room, Bucky scratching Lucky’s ears with his now empty hand as they went. Bucky was surprised when they reached the couch. To say it didn’t match the rest of Stark’s tasteful furniture was an understatement. He raised an eyebrow at Clint.

            “I still have my apartment in Brooklyn,” Clint explained. “And some weeks i end up spending more time there than here, so I swapped Stark’s ridiculously expensive and comfy couch for my old dilapidated one. I crash on the couch far too often when I’m out in Brooklyn.”

             Later, Bucky would blame Clint’s old, sagging couch for the fact that the two of them ended up leaning into each other, asleep with their heads together and Lucky stretched out on their laps. At least, that’s what he tried to do when Natasha and Steve took photos and tried to use it as blackmail. The fact that he felt safe enough to fall asleep so thoroughly that he hadn’t been woken by the two idiots posing beside them for selfies, was something he was definitely not focusing on.

            Not at all.

            Nor was he thinking about how his fingers had been tangled with Clint’s under Lucky’s body.

 

            God, he was so fucked.  

 

           

            The fifth time Bucky Barnes accidentally ran into Clint Barton, it was incredibly violent and left Bucky with epiphany.

 

            Bucky couldn’t sleep. Bucky was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling because he was thinking about Clint Barton. Clint had wormed his way into Bucky’s life and it didn’t look like he was leaving anytime soon. They hung out whenever Clint was free; Clint would show up at Bucky’s door and they would watch movies, or eat pizza, or Clint would drag him to the park when he’d decided that Bucky had spent too much time in his library and needed fresh air and actual sunlight. They’d take Lucky and wander the paths while Clint told Bucky of his latest scrape in the name of protecting the good people of Bed-Stuy.

            It was nice.

            And it was driving Bucky up the wall. Because Bucky could feel Clint, feel him firmly rooted in his chest. The archer had dug in and set up permanent residency. And it was all wrapped up in this constant ball of worry that made Bucky’s heart race.

            Because Clint was human. Fragile, breakable. Those scrapes would leave Clint with bruises that wouldn’t fade for days, with split lips, and minor fractures.

            So Bucky worried. He worried when Clint was working in Brooklyn. He worried when Clint was sent on missions by Maria. He just worried. It felt like an echo of the worry he used to feel for Steve. He didn’t remember everything from before the war, and some of what he did remember was a complete mess, but worrying about Steve Rogers was crystal clear, it seemed to be written in his DNA. He still worried about Steve, even if he was a super-soldier.

            But worrying about Steve had been different. It had been like worrying about a brother, a sickly, stubborn brother who got into more fights than was healthy. And with Steve, Bucky had always been there to back him up.

            Clint was different. He couldn’t be there for Clint. So everytime Clint came back to the tower, battered and bruised, Bucky felt like he had failed somehow.It was a visceral reaction, like a knife in the gut. And every time it made Bucky so afraid of the day that Clint wouldn’t come back.  

             Bucky threw off the covers and got out of bed. His alarm clock told him it was 2:30 AM and therefore it was a bad idea to pace, as it would awaken Captain Super-Senses Rogers. He pulled on a pair of sweats and crept out of the apartment. Once in the elevator he hit the button for the floor with the gym, knowing that mindless exercise was sure to tire him out.

             When he got there, his plan were interrupted before they even started. He was not alone in the gym. In the corner was this intense obstacle course that Stark had built, and Clint was about to run through it. Bucky watched as first Clint stretched, then launched himself into the course. He lept from moving platforms, dodged JARVIS-programmed projectiles, pushed himself off shifting panels and bars, as he climbed higher and higher. All the while he shot at moving targets. Once Clint got to the highest point on the far side of the course, he hit a button and everything stopped.

              Bucky surveys Clint’s work and Clint did the same. He hadn’t missed a single target. Bucky looked at Clint, a little awed. He knew that Clint was skilled, he was an _Avenger_ after all, but knowing that theoretically Clint could take out a bunch of bad guys was entirely different from actually seeing Clint in action.

              Suddenly, Clint was grinning, having spotted Bucky. He quickly made his way down the course and came to a top in front of Bucky.

              “That thing was amazing!” Clint said. “It’s different every time I go through it. There's literally an endless supply of possibilities. I love it.

              Bucky found himself grinning in response to Clint’s infectious energy.

              “You are _incredibly_ awake for it being 2:30 in the morning,” Bucky told him. Clint flashed him a grin.

              “Buck, I defeated and arrested a Mob Boss today. I am so wired I am not going to sleep for a week. You wanna spar?”

              The sudden turn in the sentence had Bucky responding “sure”, before he’d really processed what the question was. Clint dragged Bucky over to the sparring mats. “Wait, no.” Bucky said. “I change my mind. This is a bad idea.”

              Clint just rolled his eyes. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

              “Clint, no. I’ll hurt you.” He tugged back gently.

              Clint turned to Bucky, face serious. “Buck. We don’t have to. But I know that you can do it half-strength. I trust you, you won’t hurt me.”

              Bucky stood, thinking. He looked at Clint’s hand where it gripped his wrist. They were strong hands. Finally, he nodded. Bucky swore Clint’s grin was so wide it should have split his face.

              They got onto the mats and started circling each other. Clint attacked first, going low and trying to get past Bucky’s guard. He didn’t. Bucky blocked with ease and went for a counter strike, but Clint had already gotten out of range. THe pattern repeated, strikes, counter strikes, blocks and evades. They got fiercer and faster, and Bucky could hear how rapid both their hearts were beating. Finally, Bucky got Clint on the floor with an arm around his throat. Clint tapped the ground and both of them collapsed onto the floor, lying beside each other. They lay there, just breathing deeply for a few moments.

              “Next time,” Clint said, breaking the silence, “ _you_ are wearing _a shirt._ Because that is an unfair distraction.” Bucky huffed a laugh. He’d quickly become used to Clint’s casual flirting. It was just something he did.

              Bucky knocked his shoulder against Clint’s and left it there, and Clint tangled their fingers together. This too was something that Clint just did. This casual touching thing. Bucky figured it was just a Clint thing. Though Clint wasn't that physical with everyone. Natasha maybe, but certainly not Tony or Bruce… Bucky wasn’t going to think about that. It wasn’t important. It wasn’t important how ridiculously attractive Clint had been when he was completing that course, or when he was sparing with Bucky, competent and in control…. Bucky internally shook himself. He forced his brain to focus on Clint’s technique. Clint was good. He was skilled with weapons and hand to hand. Against a regular opponent, he’d be able to hold his own. Which meant Bucky could stop worrying. And yet, when he thought of Clint fighting bad guys, there was still a knot of tension in Bucky’s chest.

              He turned his head to look at Clint, as if he was hoping to find answers written on Clint’s face. Clint’s eyes were closed and he was smiling softly. He must have realized that Bucky was watching him, because he opened his eyes and looked at Bucky.

             “Hey, uh,” Clint said. “Sorry if Nat’s been bothering you, or dropping hints about speed or whatever.”

             “What?” Bucky asked in absolute confusion.

             “Oh. It’s just me then. Never mind.”

             “Oka-ay.” There was silence for another moment.             

             “Thanks, by the way.” Clint said suddenly.

             “For sparring with you?”

             “Yeah,” Clint said. “But also, for always listening. And hanging out with me. Even when I’m so dead tired all I want to do is watch Disney movies.”

             “You act like you give me a choice in these matters.” Bucky said with a grin. Clint shoved him playfully with his shoulder. “I kid. Seriously though, what are friends for? And besides, I like hanging out with you. “

             “Yeah?” Clint asked.

             “Yeah,” Bucky responded. “Steve still gets this face sometimes, like I’ve done or said something he didn’t expect. Something the Old Bucky wouldn’t have done. He knows I’m not the same, and he’s cool with it, I mean, we’ll always be brothers, but still. The clash of expectation and reality still get to him sometimes. You have zero expectations of me, it’s nice.”

             Clint turned his head so that they were facing each other. “I’m sorry,” he said.

             Bucky shrugged. “It is what it is. I can never be the Bucky he remembers, and he can never forget what he lost. I don’t blame him. And he _is_ trying.”

            “For what it’s worth,” Clint said. “I think you’re pretty great.”

            Bucky smiled at Clint, who smiled in return. And that's when Bucky did something incredibly stupid.

         

           He kissed Clint.

 

           Maybe it was the flirting, or the touches, or maybe it was just something about CLint’s easy smile. Whatever it was, it slammed into Bucky and pushed him forward and suddenly he was kissing Clint. It was gentle and quiet and good, the exact opposite of Bucky’s life.

           But it was quick.

           Because Bucky reared back.

           Because Clint was frozen in shock.

           Because Clint wasn’t kissing back.

           Oh god, he’s fucked up so bad.

           Before Clint’s face could shift from shock to betrayal, Bucky was on his feet, rushing out the room. He stumbled into the elevator, slamming the button for his floor. The doors closed, cutting off whatever Clint was hollering after him.

           Bucky smacked his head against the wall. He’d kissed Clint. He’d fucked up one of the only good things he’d gotten for himself. He was such an idiot. He’d pushed away the person he’d been so afraid of loosing.

           When he got to his apartment, he crept to his room and flopped down onto his bed. Thankfully, exhaustion finally caught up with him and he fell into a fitful sleep.

 

 

           The next time Bucky ran into Clint Barton, it is so incredibly, definitely on purpose.

           

            The day after Bucky’s temporary loss of rationality, he spent sulking. He slept late and even once he was awake he stayed in bed until his stomach started growling loud enough to wake the dead. He spent the afternoon in his library, attempting to lose himself in novels. In the evening Sam and Steve dragged Bucky into the kitchen and made him eat something. Bucky didn’t miss the worried glances they were shooting each other. Bucky retreated to his room after dinner. He took out his StarkPad and played puzzle games. He fell into them, nothing permeating his brain except the patterns and the bright colours. At some point he put it down and went to sleep.

             The next day was the same.

            Except, at dinner, Steve asked: “Isn’t Barton back from a mission?” 

            “Yep.” Bucky said and went back to eating.

            The next day was the same.

            Except, at dinner, Sam asked: “You feeling okay?” 

            “Yep.” Bucky said and went back to eating. 

            The next day was not the same. The next day Sam and Steve came into his room at 9 am and demanded an explanation.

            “Bucky,” Steve said, “I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. What happened?” 

            “Nothing,” Bucky muttered from where he was unsuccessfully trying to bury his head in the pillow. There was a pause.

            “Did you and Barton break-up?” Sam asked.

            Bucky sat bolt upright in bed. “What?!?”

           “Did you have a fight?” Steve asked. “ ‘Cause its okay if you did. Boyfriends fight. I’m sure you guys can work it out.”

            “Boyfriends?” Bucky asked, the last syllable reaching an octave he hadn’t hit since childhood. “What do you mean _boyfriends?_ ”

             Steve and Sam looked at each other before they slowly made their way to the end of Bucky’s bed, where they sat. Steve reached out a hand and placed it, in what was surely meant to be a comforting gesture but was really just freaking Bucky out, on Bucky’s ankle.

             “Buck, it’s okay. This isn’t  the 1940s anymore. We can date whoever we want. We don’t have to hide anymore.” Steve said it quietly but firmly, his face earnest.

             “God, Steve, I know that!” Bucky said.

             Steve looked taken aback.  “Then why…”

             “Why did I react with shock and a little fear?” Bucky asked, Steve nodded. Bucky continued, “because you used me, Barton, and boyfriends in the same sentence. In relation to each other. Which is weird. Because I am _not_ dating _Barton._ ”

             “You’re not?” Steve asked incredulously.

             “No.”

             Sam and Steve both looked confused.

             “You’ll have to forgive us,” Sam said. “Because it certainly _looks_ like you guys are dating. I mean, you have date nights where you curl up on the couch and watch rom-coms. You go on long walks in the park, sometimes without the dog. You’re the first person he goes to when he gets home. You gotta admit that it kinda looks like boyfriend stuff. Especially since neither of you do any of that shit with anyone else.” Steve was nodding along with everything Sam was saying.

              Bucky was reeling. His mind went over everything and he realized that they kinda had a point. He swallowed.

              “Uh. Does everyone think we are dating?” he asked. Sam and Steve nodded. “What about Natasha?” They both looked thoughtful for a moment before Steve spoke up.

              “Natasha doesn’t give much away, but she has been saying things to Clint along the lines of ‘stepping up his game’ and ‘picking up the pace’. So, probably?”

              Things started clicking into place in Bucky’s brain, and they were forming a pattern that had Bucky launching himself out of bed and stumbling to the elevators. Steve and Sam were shouting about the fact that he was still in pjs, but he ignored them. He needed to talk to Clint. There had obviously been some miscommunication, and Bucky wasn’t sure if this was going to work out in his favour or not, but he had to try. 

            “JARVIS, take me to where Clint is.”

            “Of course, Mr. Barnes.”

            JARVIS took him to Clint’s floor where Bucky proceeded to bang on the door until Clint opened it.

            Clint’s hair was disheveled and he was also still in pjs. Bucky barged past him and into the main living area. He spun to face Clint, who was leaning against the closed door with an eyebrow raised.

            “Are we dating?” Bucky blurted. Clint’s face froze.

            “Uh.”

            “Because Sam and Steve think we’re dating. The whole Tower does apparently.”

            Clint rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.” he said.

            “That we’re dating or that everyone thinks we’re dating?” Bucky asked.

            “The second one,” Clint responded. “I was, I swear. But I didn’t want to stop hanging out with you. And I knew that’s what would happen if you wanted to stop the rumours. And I know that’s not fair, but I thought I could, I dunno, ease you into the idea.” Clint was rubbing the back of his neck, guilt practically oozing from his pores.

            “Are you saying you like me?” Bucky asked in a much steadier, though quiet, voice than he’d expected. Clint nodded, looking at the ground. “Why didn’t you say anything?!” Bucky asked, shocked and confused. Clint started and looked up at Bucky, obviously surprised at the lack of anger.

            “Dude,” Clint said. “I held your hand.”

            “I held your hand back!” Bucky said, voice rising a little.

            “I thought you were just touch starved! And it's not like you ever responded to my flirting!” Clint said, also getting louder. But neither were angry, just confused.

            “Its not like I knew you were serious! I would have flirted back! I am a great flirt!”Bucky practically yelled.

            “You would have?” Clint asked, shocked into a quiet voice.

            “Of course I would have,” Bucky said, voice evened out. “I kissed you didn’t I?”

             “Yeah, but then you ran away.”

             Bucky let out a long breath. “I thought I’d fucked up. That I’d scared you.” he paused before saying quietly, “You didn’t kiss me back.”

              Clint strode across the room, taking Bucky’s head in his hands and leaning their foreheads together, Bucky’s hands immediately went to Clint’s hips.

               “I am so so sorry. God, Buck. You didn’t fuck up. I was just surprised was all. I fucked up. I didn’t come looking for you. I thought you’d decided it was a mistake. I’m sorry.” They stood like that for a moment, just breathing and realizing that they’d both been idiots. “I’m going to kiss you now,” Clint said. “Is that okay?”

               Bucky nodded.

               Clint leaned in and pressed his lips over Bucky’s The kiss started slow and gentle, lips sliding over lips, but then Clint tilted the angle and deepened the kiss. Bucky wrapped his arms firmly around Clint’s waist and pulled him flush against him. Clint’s hands went into Bucky’s hair and around his back. They started stumbling backwards until they tumbled onto Clint’s sagging couch, causing Lucky to jump and rush into the bedroom Clint broke the kiss as he started to laugh quietly. Bucky went to Clint’s throat, kissing a line down his collarbone. Clint straddled Bucky's lap, his hands running through Bucky's hair. After he caught his breath he pulled Bucky back up for another kiss. He gently bit down on Bucky's lip, which caused Bucky's hips to arch up off the couch. Clint ground down at the same time and they both moaned. Bucky's hand slipped around Clint's back and up and under his shirt. He ran his hand up and down Clint's spine, which caused him to shiver. When Clint's shirt continued to get in the way, he pulled it off him. Clint paused long enough to help Bucky, and then remove Bucky's shirt as well, then he was back at Bucky's mouth. They kissed and groaned as their hands explored all the skin on display. Bucky took hold of Clint and flipped them so that Clint was lying on the couch and Bucky was above him. Bucky kissed down Clint's torso, down the V of one hip and up the other. He made his way back up towards Clint's face, stopping briefly to tug on one nipple with his teeth. Clint arched under him and dragged Bucky's mouth to his for a bruising kiss. 

             “Man,” Clint said when he took a moment to catch his breath. “ I am so glad that those rumours aren’t rumours anymore.” Bucky looked down at him and grinned.

             “Same,” Bucky said. “I can’t fucking wait to see Steve’s face.” Clint laughed. 

             They stayed like that, making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers, and would have stayed their all day, except they were rudely interrupted by Steve yelling through the door wanting to know if they were trying to kill each other. The glare Bucky gave him when he yanked open the door could have peeled paint, but Steve just grinned and grabbed Sam’s hand before walking away. Bucky flipped him off behind his back before going back to Clint.

 

              It took the rest of the Tower’s residents over a week to figure out how everything actually went down. Steve and Sam claimed that technically they had been right all along, while at the same time taking credit for getting them together. Natasha maintained that all her comments had been made with the larger goal in mind.  Everyone else was just glad it had been worked out without any property damage. Though Tony kept muttering about ‘not-so-secret dogs’ and ‘not-so-secret boyfriends’.

             Bucky didn’t really care. He was happy, Clint was happy. Bucky was training to go back into the field so he could do back up for Clint. Clint was grumping about not needing protection. 

             Things were normal. Things were good.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Tang vs. Poptart debate is a real debate that I have had with Frankie. On multiple occasions. I'd love to know what you think. Comment or find me on tumblr at natthewombat.tumblr.com


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